


Better than Maple Syrup

by ferix79



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Canada's Curl, Daddy Kink, Erogenous Zone, Masturbation, Multi, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-29
Updated: 2010-10-29
Packaged: 2017-11-16 04:15:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/535379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ferix79/pseuds/ferix79
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Canada gets off just by touching his curl. France and America watch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Better than Maple Syrup

America really didn’t know why he agreed to do this for France. Had he lost a bet? Really, he didn’t remember, but it was no skin off his nose. The Frenchman could have requested something much more perverted, anyway.  
  
“Are you sure this will work, Alfred?” France mumbled to the nation ahead of him. America rolled his eyes.  
  
“Yes, Francis. I’ve known Matt for longer than you have, and I know that after every first day of a conference he goes back to his room alone to get off, okay? If you just keep your mouth shut we won’t get caught and your perverted fantasies will be satisfied.” America said back to him, coming to a chain link fence. “Now, we have to jump this.”  
  
“You want  _moi_  to hop a fence like some teenager?”   
  
“Do you want this to happen? It’s not even that hard.” America demonstrated, grabbing on the some of the links near the top and hauling himself up, his sneakers hooking in to some of the holes between the links. He climbed a bit higher and swung a leg over the top. “Just make sure you hold on. You don’t want to smash your junk on a fence, y’know.” He said with a laugh, swinging the other leg over and then dropping to the ground. “Now you try.”  
  
France huffed and copied the American, gripping the links and slowly making his way high enough to swing a leg over the top. Once France was down, America gave him a hard thump on the back.  
  
“See, that wasn’t hard!” America’s thump nearly caused France to fall over, but he soon straightened up.  
  
“Yes, well, I hope we won’t have to do that again on this little adventure?” he asked, brushing his shirt and pants off. He was glad that he chose to wear jeans. One of his elaborate outfits could have gotten ripped on the fence.  
  
“Nope! It’s just a few windows down, actually!” America pointed, and France realized they were at the back of the hotel. “C’mon! I know where Matt’s room is.”America jogged ahead and France followed in his path, glancing warily into the shadows of the building.   
  
“Francis!” Suddenly, America was much farther ahead of him and crouching in front of a window, pointing inside. “Francis, come here! He’s right here!” Stepping carefully as to avoid making much noise, France joined America at the window.  
  
He nearly growled at the sight that came upon him. Canada was splayed out on his hotel bed wearing only boxers, a full body flush already coloring his skin. His violet eyes were closed, but his mouth hung open for a moment before he swept his tongue across his lips and began biting at them. Even through the window, France could hear the nation’s soft moans.  
  
“This what you wanted?” America asked, cocky smirk evident in his voice. France only nodded, pressing his forehead to the glass and he repositioned himself on his knees. Canada’s boxers—white with little maple leaves on them, he noticed—were certainly not hiding anything. A prominent tent stretched the fabric slightly, distorting the little red leaves around his crotch. Keeping his gaze on the tented fabric France moaned, excited by the mere memory of how endowed his son was—if he could call Canada that.   
  
The two voyeurs sat in silence for some time, trying to keep quiet enough to hear Canada through the glass. Though France was the one who wanted to come here in the first place, America couldn’t deny that the view was nice. Rather than stare at his brother’s crotch like France, America’s gaze travelled up Canada’s strong chest and arms, which were tense with arousal as he held himself up on the bed. America knew that he knew better than any nation how strong Canada really was, no matter what his meek and quiet personality said about him. As the two watched, transfixed, America began to realize something.  
  
“Hey, why isn’t he touching himself?” America asked and France raised a hand to shush him, but lowered it, as he, too, realized that Canada’s hands hadn’t even touched his body yet. Still, the northern nation seemed to be focused solely on licking and gnawing at his lips. Maybe Canada had a kink for that?  
  
“I..am not sure…” the Frenchman mumbled.

Suddenly, Canada let out a gasp and took in a great breath of air. He seemed to relax a bit, his chest heaving as if he had just run a marathon. His eyes fluttered open slightly—America and France sunk lower, just in case—revealing a dark, wanting purple gaze. That gaze didn’t flick to the window; however, it seemed to be focused on something directly in front of him. America saw something flash in the light.   
  
“Whoa, Mattie!” he whispered, amazed. France snapped his head in the American’s direction, demanding an answer. America laughed. “Well, y’know that funny curl that always hangs off his head, like I have Nantucket?” he asked, motioning to his own fly-away hair. France nodded, his brows furrowing in confusion. “That must be why Matt’s so turned on! That thing is—aw, crap what’s it called again? Eragen-ero-Erogenous zone! It’s like a sweet spot for us. Like, if you touch it, we immediately get turned on! Everyone has one, I think.” America explained, turning back to the window. France only stared at him, aghast. “But damn, I never had the idea of using it to get off. I knew Matt was a closet pervert like you and Arthur! Well, not you, really, but still.”  
  
Finally, France turned back to the window. Just like America explained, Canada had reached up to grab the now wet hair and began to stroke it, curling it around his fingers and rubbing it against his thumb. As the speed of the strokes increased, so did Canada’s volume. Soon the two nations could hear loud, drawn out moans even through the glass. America had to wonder what the people in the other rooms thought.   
  
Canada moved his second hand off the bed to join the first. He developed a pattern; the index finger of one hand would twirl the air around and around until it was completely wound up. Then, with slow tugs, he would pull that hand away and let the hair unravel. As it became longer, his other hand would stroke along the exposed portion. With the boy’s moans drifting through that air, France gave in and started kneading himself. Even through the denim and cotton underwear, the friction was glorious. He considered unzipping himself when Canada’s slim hips began to buck and thrust in the air. With a quick glance to his left he saw America in a relatively similar condition. America suddenly shushed France, even though the other hadn’t said anything.  
  
“Ah! Ohhh...d-dad, please…” Canada murmured, and France immediately halted his kneading and slowly tuned his head to America, who did the same. Neither said a word, and eventually France turned back to the view. Perhaps he had just imagined it…  
  
A loud moan ripped itself from Canada’s lips. “Daddy! Please, I can’t stand it! Ahh…”  
  
France had to admit, he  _almost_  fell back onto the ground at his son’s words, but managed to retain his dignity. He did not turn to look at America, but felt a furious blush on his cheeks.   
  
“Hot  _damn_ , Matt’s kinky as hell!” America chuckled, repositioning himself so that he knees were spread on the ground. “I’m sorry, Francis, I know you were originally coming here to be a voyeur for yourself but this is just way too hot.” He said, unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans. Without hesitation, America pulled his hardened member out and began stroking himself.   
  
France was mildly surprised, but shrugged it off. America was right; might as well enjoy the show, especially if it was about him. In seconds, France had also freed himself from his jeans and was palming his own erection.   
  
Both knew that Canada was close—his hips pistoning at a rapid pace and his erratic breathing gave it away. The nation moaned ‘dad’ or ‘daddy’ a few more times, but then, out of nowhere, scrambled to the end of the bed and began fumbling with his boxers. The sudden movement shocked the two voyeurs, but Canada hadn’t seemed to notice them. Canada yanked off the fabric as if his life depended on it and then lay back completely on the bed, hard cock bobbing in the air as he shook and continued to stroke his curl.

“Ah, ah, d-daddy, I can’t—! Oh,  _Arthur_!” Canada screamed, and reached down to his member just as he came. His release splattered all over his stomach, and he pumped himself a few times afterwards, milking every drop to sustain the orgasmic high. With another few stokes America came with a grunt and satisfied sigh, lowering himself slowly to the ground to bask in the afterglow.   
  
Francis did also come soon after Canada, but didn’t feel the same satisfaction that America did. Canada—his  _Matthieu_ —hadn’t been fantasizing about him, but his  _other_  father, if one could call England that. The Frenchman was flabbergasted.   
  
A soft ‘zip’ brought him back to reality as America tucked himself back into his jeans. “Francis? Uhh…I’m sure that wasn’t what you were expecting, but you got a good show, right?” America offered a weak smile and pat on the shoulder before standing and stretching his limbs. “Ahh! I really need to hook up with Mattie again soon; it’s been way too long.” He said, mostly to himself as he pushed his hands into his pockets and made his way back in the direction of the fence.   
  
Still feeling disheartened, Francis tucked himself back in to his jeans and zipped up, standing to follow America, but then an idea struck him.   
  
“ _Amérique_.” he called, causing the other nation to stop and turn at the mention of his name, “What do you think about a foursome?”

**Author's Note:**

> De-anon and transfer from the kink meme. Enjoy :)  
> Hasn't been edited since it was posted in 2012, so excuse any bad writing/errors.


End file.
